


Ten Things I (Love) About You

by ItinerantAvthor



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Leonard "Bones" McCoy is a Good Friend, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Lists Is No Good, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Spock, Spock is a musical genius, Three-Dimensional Chess (Star Trek), Vulcan Biology, Vulcans purr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24902923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItinerantAvthor/pseuds/ItinerantAvthor
Summary: Spock finds a torn page in Kirk's quarters titled "10 Things I ___e About Spock." Misunderstanding the note, Spock endeavors to behave exactly opposite of the Captain's list. Now if only things will go back to normal between them.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, Spock & Nyota Uhura
Comments: 35
Kudos: 422





	Ten Things I (Love) About You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You've Got Your Reasons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547052) by [CandiceWright](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandiceWright/pseuds/CandiceWright), [FervidAsAFlame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FervidAsAFlame/pseuds/FervidAsAFlame). 



> Oh my god I just realized I wrote an answer to "Oblivious" and this time Spock is the oblivious, pining idiot. Amazing.
> 
> Edit: FervidAsAFlame wrote the beautiful Merthur fic titled "You've Got Your Reasons" which inspired this story!! Please go check their works out because they are a fabulous writer! <3

1.

  
The report on his computer whizzed away through the Enterprise’s intranet and Spock allowed his eyes to flick up to the thermometer in the corner of his room. A slight scowl flitted across his lips. Sixteen point two degrees Centigrade. Despite repeated attempts to warm his rooms to temperatures acceptable for Vulcans, the system always restarted itself to pre-programmed settings. 

A few keystrokes later, Spock sent a curt message to Lieutenant Commander Scott about getting one of his engineers to deck three for the much-needed repair. Then, setting his jaw and decidedly not shivering, Spock gathered his heaviest meditation robe and set it about his shoulders to keep the cold at bay.

Yet, as he settled into the short reading chair with a hot mug of sweet, spicy _sash-savas_ tea in one hand and a long-awaited scientific report on the molecular structure of space clouds after traveling through black holes in the other, Spock could not deny it: he was cold. He glowered back up at the thermometer even as he shrugged the meditation robes closer and closer.

Finally he stood. He was not proud of what he was about to do, but he had done it before and never gotten caught, so he was willing to do it again.

He was going to steal one of the Captain’s undershirts.

Kirk would have understood, of course, if he simply asked for one. He would have teased Spock about it a little at first, but eventually just given them to him with a soft smile and said, “of course, Mister Spock.” But it was the principle of the thing, Spock thought with a slight flush to his cheeks. He should be able to regulate his body’s inner temperature like any other Vulcan. He should not have to rely on another officer’s clothing, regardless of how thick and soft said clothing was.

It was a failing on his part as a Vulcan that he could not resist the smell of the Captain’s undershirts, sweet and clean and slightly tinged with his cologne, when he was cold. It was a failure of downright sentimentalism when he hugged the loose material around his skinny frame and nuzzled into its warmth. 

That sentimentalism drove him into deep reflection. Indeed, Spock had thought intensely about his and Jim’s relationship for the past four years. About their professionalism, their teamwork, their dedication to Starfleet and their crew. About the shared looks, the long shifts worked together, the meaningful touches in the dark when they were stranded away from the Enterprise.

Indeed, Spock came to the conclusion approximately five months ago that he and Kirk were headed in the direction for a romantic relationship. He believed that the Captain spent more time with him than with any other officer, that their nightly chess games had an undercurrent of tension he couldn’t quite trace, that when they sparred together after shifts Jim’s eyes lingered on his body a little longer than would be considered appropriate for friendship. Steadily over those five months Spock noticed more of his attention being diverted to the Captain. He believed it to be inevitable. He had even secretly read through the entirety of the official Starfleet Officer’s Handbook for policies and regulations regarding quote-unquote “office romances.” Surprisingly little could be found on the topic, excepting the obvious statement on supervision being provided from an individual with whom one was not in a romantic relationship.

While he was mildly surprised that their relationship had not evolved romantically quite yet, Spock remained unworried. He knew the Captain needed to take time to come to his own conclusions.

He buzzed for entrance through their shared bathroom, waited a few minutes, then buzzed again. When no answer came, he entered the override code smoothly and stepped into the room, just as he had done a dozen times before. 

Kirk was absent as Spock had hoped. He felt a tinge of guilt, but quickly smothered it as he reached for the set of drawers near the Captain’s bed. 

Clean black undershirts lay in the drawer, carefully set there by Yeoman Rand only recently, judging by their slight warmth. Spock lifted one carefully, not daring to disturb its brothers. In reverence, he brought it to his face and inhaled deeply, soaking in Jim’s essence and enjoying a closeness that was not his quite yet.

He was about to close the drawer and turn away when a flash of color caught his eye. Frowning, he reached in to find a crumpled piece of paper, perhaps left behind by the Yeoman. He did not understand its allure, but discovered that several Human officers aboard the Enterprise appreciated using pads of synthetic paper to write things down, including the Captain. Why they should utilize such a primitive technology Spock did not know, but he kept to himself and his data padds.

At first he thought to simply throw the crumpled page in the garbage receptacle on his way through the bathroom. He bit his lip and acknowledged that he was already doing a ridiculously illogical thing in borrowing his Captain’s undershirt. Spock unfurled the little paper with deft fingers.

The first thing he noticed was that it had clearly been torn along the top, whereupon there was, in Jim’s handwriting, the sentence **“10 things I ___e about Spock.”** The tear intersected the middle word, making it impossible to deduce.

Spock’s eyes dropped to the list of ten things. His brow lifted in astonishment.

1\. Sometimes he steals my undershirts when he’s cold and he thinks I haven’t noticed  
2\. He stands at his station on the bridge instead of sitting down like everyone else  
3\. The way he says “fascinating” whenever something new or exciting comes up  
4\. His ears perk up like a cat’s when he hears his name  
5\. When he argues with Bones over the smallest things  
6\. He purrs when he sits with me to read scientific reports  
7\. Every time his eyebrows furrow when we have discussions over chess and he thinks I’m being stupid but he won’t tell me to my face  
8\. When he lights his Vulcan incense to meditate and it wafts over to me through the bathroom  
9\. He’ll bump into me and pretend he didn’t like it because Vulcans don’t appreciate physical contact  
10\. The way I can feel his mind when we touch

Spock read through the list once more to be sure he understood it, but his eidetic memory and clever mind knew that he was not mistaken. It was a list of traits that - embarrassingly - he did not even know Kirk had noticed. Indeed, some of these characteristics he had hardly noticed himself.

His spine straightened and his ears twitched when he heard noise outside Kirk’s door. As quick as a hungry _le-matya_ , he raced out of the room and shut the door behind him, leaving no evidence of his presence. It was only when he returned to his own rooms that he stared down at the two incredible items he had managed to steal from the Captain’s quarters. 

**“Sometimes he steals my undershirts when he’s cold and he thinks I haven’t noticed.”**

The words seemed to jump from the page toward him. He winced but held tightly to the shirt. 

Eyes drifting back to the top of the page, Spock had a creeping feeling that he was going to have to solve the riddle of the missing middle word. _“10 things I ___e about Spock”_ was simply too vague. What could all of these things have in common that Kirk might write about his Commanding Officer?

He was technically “room mates” with the Captain. Perhaps these were actions that he felt were rude or unbecoming of a person with whom he shared such close quarters. But standing at his station on the bridge was not an action he undertook off-duty.

Frowning, Spock stared closer at the words on the page, hoping and fearing in turns that they would unlock their secrets to him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, his mind began to go down a certain path as he realized what the answer may be.

Are these traits, he thought slowly, ones that Jim finds… annoying?

Spock found it difficult at times to understand Human social customs, that much was true, but Kirk was a good friend. He had never left Spock “hanging out to dry,” to use a Human phrase. Whenever he missed a social cue, the Captain always obliged him by speaking privately about it at a later time. Indeed, over the past four years his own diplomatic abilities had improved, especially where Humans were concerned, in no small part due to Jim’s thoughtfulness.

But could it be that it was here, in a private space Jim thought no one, not even Spock, would intrude, the Captain recorded all his frustrations with the Vulcan?

Usually when Kirk needed a second opinion besides Spock’s, he would go to Dr. McCoy. But perhaps, knowing their quarreling and friendly jabs, the Captain had opted instead to simply write down what was on his mind. 

As Spock read through the list again, it became horribly clear that frustration was the common thread tying each item together.

“Ten things I hate about Spock,” he murmured under his breath, tracing the tear at the top of the page with a trembling finger.

It was a logical conclusion. His mind reeled from it, rejecting his probable rejection, but the scientist in him would not allow him to shy away from the most likely scenario. Spock steeled himself to look at the evidence as an adult, not a quivering child hiding from schoolyard bullies.

Was it ever really romance he felt between them? Or was the tension in the air due to Kirk’s disdain for the Vulcan officer? When the Captain looked him over in the workout room, was it lust in his eyes? Or was it revulsion? Did he simply imagine a deeper friendship when the Human reached out to him on occasion, replacing reality with a fanciful lie? 

Spock sat at his desk gingerly, clutching the nearly forgotten undershirt. How foolish he had been. How absolutely illogical. He had misread his and the Captain’s relationship badly. A surge of despair flooded through him. He had to right this wrong. If Spock couldn’t have his love, then at least he needed Kirk’s friendship. And yet, how to do that, especially when the Captain clearly viewed everything he did with disgust?

His eyes dropped again to the list in his hand. The answer was clear. He simply had to not do everything written on the paper. He had to stop stealing the undershirts, sit at his station on the bridge, get along with Dr. McCoy… Spock grimaced and clutched the shirt already in his hand. Hesitating only a moment, he tore off his science blues and shimmied the oversized, thick black shirt over his head, relishing the last, terrible, illogical moment with the Captain’s clothing he would ever have.

2.

Spock stepped into the turbolift on his way to the bridge, brow furrowed with thought. The week’s schedule had him on the bridge for the next four days, five hours for each shift. On Thursday and Saturday he would be stationed in the molecular laboratory, overseeing an Ensign’s research on Furrow’s Theorem’s impact on water in the void of space. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday also saw him in the botany labs, teaching courses on the samples taken from the Detripidus system they passed through last month.

He placed his hands behind his back and squeezed them together anxiously. There was not one day in the next week that he had not planned on seeing the Captain during their off-hours. He would have to cancel those plans in favor of not annoying Kirk further. Unfortunately, he knew that the Captain would be working with him on the bridge all four days, and that Kirk would also be at the three-day class he volunteered to teach.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a teasing voice asked beside him. 

Without his blessed Vulcan composure, Spock would have jumped from surprise. He looked to his left and saw the very Captain occupying his mind grinning at him in the turbolift. When he had entered the lift, the Commander could not say.

“My thoughts are worth more than a penny, I assure you, Captain,” he said, before remembering that he was supposed to be distancing from Kirk and not flirting with him.

Kirk chuckled. Spock froze. “I suppose they are, aren’t they?” he mused, looking at him with twinkling eyes. 

Before Spock could break down he tore his gaze away and muttered something about the illogic of joking about old-Earth currency for something as trivial as thoughts. When the turbolift arrived at the bridge, Spock practically leapt to his station, relieving Lieutenant K’aal from her duty. If he had looked back, he may have seen a quizzical look take over the Captain’s face. Instead, he planted his buttocks into the seat the Lieutenant just vacated and promptly set to work. 

The rest of the week was miserable for Spock. He usually stood at his work station because it was better for his back and legs - and, honestly, he didn’t mind the Captain’s occasional attention on his backside. Or what he thought had been the Captain’s attention on his backside. Now, cramped and miserable, he felt an even greater need to go to the gym for sparring after his shift ended. But it couldn’t be. He had to give the Captain space and not annoy him further with requests to exercise together. Instead, he did calisthenics in the privacy of his quarters. Hardly a worthy replacement.

At the end of the fourth day, just as the bridge crew were being relieved by their counterparts on Beta shift, the Captain pulled him aside to a little-used ready room near the turbolift.

“Mister Spock,” he started, then hesitated.

Spock stood stoically, determined not to speak and frustrate him.

The Captain cleared his throat. “Are you… doing alright?” he asked.

The Commander simply furrowed his brow ever so slightly. 

“You seem - well, off this week,” Kirk clarified.

Spock dropped his gaze. “I am well, Sir,” he said. When he attempted to leave, Kirk grabbed his upper arm, squeezing it gently as he redirected Spock back into the ready room.

“Are you certain?” he asked, searching Spock’s face for something.

He squeezed his eyes closed briefly, eidetic memory recalling every word from the infamous list. He opened his eyes to find a worried look on Kirk’s face. “Why do you ask?” 

It was Kirk’s turn to drop his gaze. “I… I didn’t think you liked to sit during your shifts, is all,” he confessed. “You’ve always stood when you worked. To be honest, I thought maybe something had happened.”

Spock forced himself to relax, but still tugged his arm away from Kirk’s grasp. “Please be assured that I am well, Captain,” he repeated. “It is nothing of note.”

He left Kirk in the ready room just as confused as at the start of the conversation.

3.

One of the three away teams came back early, arms full of myriad botanical samples from the class M planet below. As he directed the officers, Commander Spock found himself wondering at the vast diversity bundled neatly in their arms. They had discovered sentient flora - leaves that moved of their own volition, trailing petals that waved lazily in the harsh, unnatural light of the transporter room.

“Fascinating,” he heard himself murmur as another ensign passed him, carrying a dazzling yellow flower that moved as if dancing to an unheard rhythm. 

“Isn’t it though, Mister Spock?” the Captain’s voice reached his ears a millisecond before his hand thumped the Vulcan’s back. “A thousand wondrous life forms never before seen by humanity. Or Vulcans, for that matter,” he smiled.

“Indeed,” Spock said curtly, internally reproaching himself for being so careless with his words when he knew the Captain was near. “Very interesting.”

Before Kirk could continue his soliloquy on the beauty they’d found, the Commander excused himself and practically ran to the botany labs where Lieutenant Commander Chopra was attempting to corral the excited away team members. He threw himself into the work, ordering tests and reports and analyses about the… curious life forms they’d found.

The next day at lunch, Spock found himself accompanied by the Captain and Dr. McCoy. They were speaking of an enormous trove of dilithium crystals found on the planet now being called “Etheria” by the crew. Spock ignored the conversation, having been more enraptured by the botanical samples taken from the planet’s surface.

“I dunno,” McCoy said thoughtfully, chewing on a forkful of asparagus. “I almost wish we hadn’t found the deposit. The Federation will be all over it like a honeybee on hyssop.”

Kirk laughed, as he always did when the doctor used one of his Southern sayings. Spock’s chest ached with emotion at the clear, loud echo of his laughter that he had come to love so dearly.

“Why, Bones,” he teased, “aren’t you all cynical today. How very different from every other day I’ve known you!”

“Alright, alright,” McCoy groused, dropping his fork. Spock saw that the doctor’s eyes gleamed though, a sure sign that he was teasing back in good fun. “But if I’m a cynical bastard, the only thing Spock’s thought since we found the planet is one word: _fascinating._ ”

Kirk and McCoy looked at him, and he found swallowing his food a difficult concept. His stomach knotted and he discovered that he couldn’t meet their gazes.

“Our discoveries have been quite compelling,” he said quietly, sipping out of his water glass.

The Captain tilted his head, a question ready on his lips, when he was interrupted by Yeoman Rand with a slew of data padds ready for signatures. 

“Oh, sure, compelling,” Doctor McCoy said, a smirk on his tanned features. “What part’s most compelling, Mister Spock? What’s compelling to a green-blooded Vulcan such as yourself?”

The Commander tensed, his shoulders a rigid line. He could sense Kirk’s curious stare even as he signed the padds before him.

“I am a scientist,” he said simply, gathering the remnants of his now-unwanted lunch. “I am engrossed by new discoveries.”

“Engrossed? I’ll say,” McCoy muttered into his coffee mug. Spock nodded his head jerkily and excused himself, feeling the Captain’s gaze upon him as he left the crowded cafeteria.

Less than an hour later, Spock bent over the laboratory desk, an intense gaze settled on the viewing screen to his right. He slid another sample of an almost sheer layer of cellulose under the microscope’s powerful lens and waited. The viewing screen, blurry at first, became clearer and clearer as he adjusted the dials to his liking.

He took a deep breath. He had found the mechanism by which the sentient flora received energy from their twin suns. This was an incredible revelation, one that could change the very foundations of farming on planets throughout galaxies. Spock shook his head slightly, dazed at the knowledge he had uncovered.

He began to say it - _the word_ \- underneath his breath, but suddenly he became aware of another presence in the lab. The Commander knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was his Captain, come to see why he hadn’t shown up for chess. 

“Fas...t test results,” he said, flustered, grasping for any turn of phrase that would allow him a reprieve from saying that word.

The Captain, who had stood at the edge of the lab, shrouded in shadow, stepped forward, a frown on his face. Spock’s heart yearned suddenly for the man before him, his soft figure encased in a gray T-shirt and red sweatpants.

“Mister Spock?” Kirk asked softly. “You’ve got some test results, you say?”

“Aye, Captain,” Spock replied, his face hot. 

“You weren’t about to say something else, were you?” the Captain said, a light teasing tone in his voice. His face had softened into a grin, and there was a twinkle in his eye. Spock swallowed hard.

“No, Sir,” he said.

“Not even… fascinating?” Kirk chuckled, closing the gap between them.

The Commander tensed, pressing his lips into a tight line. “I am engaged by my discovery, sir,” he acknowledged, turning away from the Captain just as he reached the desk.

“I see,” Kirk said, an edge of disappointment in his voice. Spock turned his head away, ashamed. 

“I apologize for missing chess tonight, Captain,” he said tensely. He fiddled with his instruments. “I simply became busy with this experiment and lost track of time.”

This was a complete lie. Vulcans kept a precise internal clock and Spock was no exception. He simply had not thought that the Captain would seek him out if he missed a game.

“I see,” Kirk said again. This time he sounded tired. “Well, we can reschedule chess any time. You seem to be pretty… engaged right now, Mister Spock. I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I look forward to reading your report.” He hesitated. His mouth moved, as if he was going to say something, but he shook his head and smiled, as if laughing at himself. “Good night, Mister Spock,” he said, giving the Commander a crooked grin. 

Spock waited for the Captain to leave the lab before leaning back into the wall behind him. His chest heaved as if he had just run a long distance. There was no doubt about it: Kirk’s friendship was slipping further and further out of his grasp.

4.

_“...Because you’re mine, I walk the line,”_ sang Uhura in her clear, beautiful voice. Clapping ensued as Nurse Chapel put down the acoustic instrument she was playing and bowed with the Lieutenant, who beamed. Spock would not have attended this musical festivity, knowing that the Captain would be present, but he had made a promise to Miss Uhura several weeks ago. Indeed, he had been pressed to play his Vulcan lyre, to which he had again conceded. A headache was forming behind his eyes. It would be a long afternoon.

He knew exactly where Kirk was in the large meeting hall. In fact, he had slipped in late just to be able to avoid sitting next to the Captain in the first place. The Commander, sitting to the far left of the stage, sat rigid in his chair, only two short rows ahead of the Captain and Doctor McCoy.

The two had talked and whispered throughout the performances thus far. Due to Spock’s excellent Vulcan hearing, he knew they had spoken of him twice, wondering why he had not sat next to them, and also what he might play. 

Gripping his lyre tight, he forced his ears to stay absolutely still. Spock had not noticed before, but Kirk’s note brought his habit to light - the tips of his pointed, Vulcan ears twitched whenever he heard his name. This, and other cat-like reflexes, were remnants of Vulcan evolution that hadn’t yet faded from their ancient bloodline. 

Uhura motioned for Spock to join her on the stage, releasing Spock of his admittedly self-loathing thoughts.

“Commander Spock is renowned on Vulcan for his musical abilities,” she announced to the crew, rather an exaggeration as he was only renown in Shi’khar for his musical abilities. “He has graciously agreed to play a Vulcan song for us this afternoon. Please give him your full attention!”

The crew clapped politely, many staring, as the Commander took his seat. There were quite a few, he mused, who had no idea he was creatively inclined. They saw him only as a “hard-assed authority figure,” as the Captain once said. But Kirk knew better. Kirk saw him, truly saw him. Had always accepted the quirks about him that so many had ostracized him for throughout his life.

Clearing his throat, Spock placed his hands on the lyre’s strings and forced himself to turn Kirk out of his mind. He began to play a love song, an ancient ballad passed down through generations of desert clans. The chords came to him naturally. It was a song he knew well and cherished dearly. His father had taught him the ballad when he was just a young boy. 

He was pulled out of his rhythm when Dr. McCoy’s low voice came clearly to his ears: “Did you know Spock could play this good?” His fingers plucked a string too tightly, making him wince with the discordant sound. He continued playing, chastising himself strongly for being easily distracted. 

“I knew,” a well-loved voice whispered back to the Doctor. “Mister Spock is full of surprises, isn’t he?” 

And this time he couldn’t help it. At the sound of his name Spock’s ears perked, twitching forward slightly to try and catch more of Kirk’s words. Somehow he kept his face a stoic mask, but inside he scolded himself. 

Finishing the ballad two choruses earlier than he’d planned, he bowed abruptly and left the meeting hall, leaving Uhura to introduce the next performer and the Captain to wonder what had just happened.

5.

Commander Spock stood rigidly in the corner of the room, clutching an untouched drink and willing away the milling bodies around him. He could not have, in good conscience, turned down Commander Baqri’s invitation for a Human tradition called a “stag night.” Perhaps it stood for “staggeringly drunk,” Spock thought with distaste as two Ensigns held onto each other for dear life, roaring with laughter, liquor on their breaths. It was only 2300 hours. Spock’s lips pursed in disdain. However, Commander Baqri was a capital addition to the Enterprise crew, a fine Science officer, and perhaps cut out for a Command position in a few years. His soon-to-be husband was having his own, smaller, party elsewhere on the ship. Spock internally wished he had been invited to Lieutenant Commander Abbott’s celebration instead.

 _Kaiidith_ , he chastised himself gently, taking a feeble sip of the Andorian mulled wine in his hand. What is, is. What will be, will be.

He turned his attention to the middle of the party where a makeshift dance floor had been set up by Commander Baqri’s groomsmen. Decked out with multi-colored lights, the latest pop tunes from Resa IV, and even fog machines - where on the Enterprise did they happen to find a fog machine? - the dance floor was a popular spot with several officers. 

“Well, Mister Spock,” a familiar voice said, sidling up to the Vulcan’s shoulder. “What do you think about all this pomp and circumstance? You’d probably say it’s rather illogical, eh?”

Spock took a fortifying sip of wine before turning to McCoy, whose blue eyes glimmered up at him. “Most cultures have celebratory gatherings, Doctor,” he said stiffly. 

McCoy chuckled and took a hefty drink of his cocktail. He wiped his mouth just as the Captain joined their tete-a-tete.

“How about that?” the country doctor drawled. “Even Vulcans celebrate, is that right?”

Spock dipped his head and steadfastly avoided Kirk’s gaze. “Correct,” he said. “Celebrations for Vulcans include a _u’thet kanu_ , a gathering of the families to celebrate the birth of their child. This is a logical celebration, as the child is introduced to Vulcan society.”

The Captain smiled, slow and wide. McCoy simply shook his head. “So you don’t mind all this noise and merrymaking, Mister Spock? Admit it, any species with eyes could see you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“It is doubtful that every species with eyes could witness another being’s discomfort, Doctor,” Spock countered, gaze flicking away from Kirk’s soft lips. “It is also true that this is not the most efficient use of officers’ time.”

“Oh, come now,” McCoy said impatiently, draining the rest of his drink. “Are you or are you not having fun right now?”

“I am not,” the Commander said curtly.

“So you think celebrations like this are illogical!” the doctor said triumphantly, as if he had won some imaginary game they were playing.

Spock frowned. “A celebration like Commander Baqri’s and Lieutenant Commander Abbott’s is no less illogical than a _u’thet kanu_ for Vulcan parents, regardless of the enjoyment of its guests.”

The Captain tilted his head to the side. “Is that so, Mister Spock?” he mused.

Blushing, Spock dropped his gaze to the floor. “Aye, Captain,” he said. “It is logical to strengthen bonds with one’s close community by celebrating new life in all its different forms. A wedding, the birth of a child. Even death is seen by many cultures to be a gateway to new life.”

“Harumph,” Doctor McCoy said, impatient. “Mister Spock, you’re just being ornery with me now.”

Spock’s eyebrow climbed his forehead in feigned surprise. “Doctor, I -” 

Kirk threw his head back and laughed, clear and loud. It surprised several Ensigns near them, but nearly everyone else was engrossed in other aspects of the celebration and paid no mind. 

“You two are always butting heads,” he said, grin stretching wide across his face. “Why can’t you just kiss and make up?”

Doctor McCoy blushed and muttered under his breath, but Spock froze. Of course. Why hadn’t he remembered the list? It was usually at the forefront of his mind. Kirk hated when Spock and McCoy argued all the time. And now he was laughing at the Commander.

He stiffly nodded to the Doctor and mumbled an apology before walking to the exit. He found Commander Baqri and congratulated him, albeit very briefly, and then excused himself to the science labs two decks down. 

Absorbed in his experiment, Commander Spock paid little heed to the automatic doors at the end of the hall opening with a soft whoosh almost four full hours after the incident at the party. Indeed, since he had done his utmost to put the scene out of his mind entirely, he was rather bewildered to hear a low ahem at his shoulder. 

“Mister Spock,” a stiff voice said, pulling his attention away from the computer screen. 

“Doctor McCoy,” the Commander acknowledged, turning his body toward his interruptor. “Is there something with which I can assist you?”

The Doctor simply stared at him for a few moments, analyzing him with bright blue eyes. His gaze was piercing, as if he was trying to see Spock’s _katra_ , like he knew all of his past and future, all of his thoughts and desires and nightmarish failures. It was the kind of gaze that benefited a doctor of medicine in the frontier of space - analytical, cool, not to be trifled with. 

“Not exactly,” the Human said slowly. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter with his hip. “I just came by to apologize.”

Spock’s mouth may have hung open for just a moment before repeating, “Apologize?”

“Yes, apologize,” McCoy said, dropping his gaze finally. “I… shouldn’t have riled you up at Commander Baqri’s celebration. You seemed upset, ‘n I should’ve noticed.”

“Vulcans -” Spock began, but the Doctor cut him off. 

“Mister Spock,” he said, glaring at the Science officer, “don’t you think I know when my friends are upset? I may not be the brightest bulb in Starfleet, but I try not to kick a cow turd in summer.”

The Commander inhaled to discuss the merits of such a saying, but McCoy kept going.

“Look, what I’m tryin’ to say is: I’m sorry. Take it or leave it.”

Spock lifted one eyebrow, refusing to physically acknowledge how touched he was that the Doctor would apologize to him. 

“I shall take it,” he said. 

They stood staring at each other for a beat. Spock wasn’t sure what else McCoy needed, but he knew the Human would speak soon enough.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what it is I said that set you off, but next time I’ll do a better job of picking fights with you,” McCoy said, eyes twinkling.

Spock cleared his throat. “It was not exactly your conduct that so.... imbalanced me, Doctor,” he said, squirming slightly in his chair. 

McCoy’s eyes squinted, as if trying to see whether Spock was mocking him.

“Oh?” he asked suspiciously. “Then what was it?”

The Commander pressed his lips together and didn’t speak for a moment, unwilling to bare his soul to his compatriot. Soon, however, the Doctor relaxed and brought his hands to his hips.

“So it was Jim, eh?” he asked, lips tugging upward into a small smile. 

Spock gave no response, but apparently McCoy was satisfied with his guess. 

“Well, it took you long enough,” he said, a full grin settled on his face. “With you two dancin’ around each other for months on end I thought someone’d have to intervene finally!”

“Please explain,” Spock replied, knowing full well what the Human was saying.

McCoy threw his hands up, but his smile remained fixed. “Come on, man! You know what I mean. Fine, if you’re going to be so damned obtuse: I’m glad you and Jim started dating. It’s about time.”

“Doctor, your hypothesis is flawed, and thus your conclusion is faulty,” Spock said icily. “You seem to speak of the Captain and I in - a romantic relationship. This is not so.”

“What? What do you mean?” Doctor McCoy asked sharply, grin turning into a glare. 

Spock fixed his gaze down on the computer screen at his waist. “Simply put, your characterization of the Captain’s and my relationship is not only incorrect, it is entirely oppositional to reality,” he said finally. 

“Oppositional to - now wait a minute,” McCoy said, grabbing Spock’s arm. “Are you telling me that you and Jim had some kind of falling out?”

“Not on my part,” Spock said tiredly. He gently shook off the Doctor’s hand, then turned and shut down the computer he had been working on, resolved to finish the project in his personal quarters. “Good night, Doctor.”

Doctor McCoy simply stared at the Vulcan as he fled the lab. What in the dickens could he have meant by that?

6.

Spock knew he had to be more careful after his conversation with Doctor McCoy. If he had noticed the Commander’s strange behavior around the Captain, there was sure to be more talk going around than he had imagined. The next day was quiet, however, and Spock was settling into a routine of avoidance. The few times he interacted with the Captain were, according to his analysis, quite positive, per his determination to win the Captain back. Kirk had even invited him over for chess and Spock had declined, determined not to overwhelm the Captain with his presence and annoying habits.

That evening, however, Mister Spock found himself tucked away in his cabin, the temperature regulator once more too cold for his liking. He shrugged the thick meditation robes around his shoulders even closer and gripped the hot mug of tea in his hands, settling down at his desk to read through Ensigns Jalah’s and O’Malley’s chemical analyses.

A buzz at the bathroom entrance startled him. There could only be one person behind the door, and he had certainly not invited Kirk over for any occasion. Could it be that Kirk was coming to address the list of frustrations to Spock’s face? He bit his lip as he walked toward the bathroom door.

When he opened it, Kirk’s face lit up into a smile. He was holding a few data padds and a thermos with steam curling out of it. 

“Mister Spock,” he said warmly. “Would you mind if I keep you company while I read through these reports? I need to sign off on them, but it’s hard to stay focused all alone in my quarters.”

“Of course, Captain,” Spock said automatically. Mentally kicking himself for the foolish mistake, he stepped aside for Kirk to enter his quarters and make himself at home on the overstuffed sofa beneath the ceremonial _lirpa_ that hung on his wall. 

Kirk hummed to himself as he settled into the cushions, a tune that Spock thought he could vaguely remember. It struck him, suddenly, that it was the love song he had played for Lieutenant Uhura’s musical concert just a week ago.

“Won’t you sit here with me, Mister Spock?” the Captain asked, turning toward him with a strange expression on his face. “There’s more than enough space here. I promise I won’t bite.” 

Spock’s nostrils flared as he struggled to control himself. “I do not anticipate you attacking me, Sir,” he said, still sitting at his desk.

The Captain chuckled and said, “You know what I meant. Besides, I know it’s a little cool in here for you. Won’t you sit next to me and conserve body heat?”

It was a flimsy argument and Spock knew it, but he stood stiffly and took his data padd over to the couch. He did not want to risk annoying the Captain further by continuing the argument. Instead, he sat as far away from Kirk as possible, to which he was given another strange look. They both began reading as the Captain settled in, just two millimeters closer than before. 

They had not been reading long when Spock noted the Captain looking up at him curiously for a moment. He returned to his reading, ignoring the strange look. However, a few minutes later, Kirk did it again. And a few minutes after that, he looked up again. 

“Mister Spock,” he began, then clicked his jaw shut. He shook his head. “Never mind.”

The Commander looked up questioningly. “Captain?”

“It’s just -” Kirk powered off his data padd and turned to face him. “Usually, when we sit together in the evenings to read our reports, you - well, you seem to hum, or something. It’s not a song, necessarily, but more like… well, I’m not sure what to call it. But I got used to it awhile ago. Did… are you…” his voice trailed off, uncertain as to what he was actually asking.

Spock, however, was frozen stiff in fear. He knew exactly what the Captain was talking about. The purr. How foolish. Of course the Captain would have remembered one of the items from his list that frustrated him to no end. Of course he would think Spock would return to one of his bad habits. 

“I am simply reading, Sir,” Spock said, gaze fixed on the floor. He felt more than saw Kirk squirm in his seat for a moment before sighing. 

“Of course, Mister Spock,” he said quietly.

They returned to their separate reading materials for only a few more moments before the Captain abruptly stood and announced that he had forgotten something on his calendar. He returned to his quarters and the door whooshed closed behind him with a finality.

Spock stared after him, in turns mystified and angry at himself. Friendship with the Captain continued to slip out of his grasp.

7.

Kirk finally convinced him to play chess only three days later. Spock and Lieutenant Uhura had been detained planetside on a rough first contact mission for over a period of fifty seven hours while the Loren monarchy bickered over whether they should kill the visitors or welcome them.

When they finally re-formed on the transporter pad, Spock nearly collapsed with the weight of his injuries. Lieutenant Uhura had painstakingly taken care of him, but she was no medical doctor. It was her cleverness and quick tongue, however, that got them out of their situation, along with the Enterprise’s armory and the threat of a galactic incident. Spock held himself upright all the way to medbay without uttering a sound with both Kirk and Uhura following along behind him like worried hens. 

Yet Doctor McCoy shooed them away and fixed him up “right as rain,” as he said, bouncing on his heels. Spock thanked McCoy for his troubles, though the doctor looked at him strangely as he left. 

Once back in his quarters, Spock reviewed a kind but unnecessary thank-you note from Nyota, who wanted to assure him that she was fine and express her gratitude for his bravery and assistance on their ill-fated mission. He sent her a swift message with a smiling face made out of punctuation, a new skill that Mr. Chekhov had just taught him, and walked with a slight limp to his desk to start a report on the incident.

Before he could begin, however, a knock sounded at the bathroom entrance. Not a buzz, this time, but an old-fashioned knock, something Kirk only ever did when he was exhausted. 

“Enter,” Spock called, his voice breaking. Was this it? The final moments of their friendship?

The Captain stepped into the room, his face a mask. He kept his arms folded behind him. 

“Mister Spock,” he said, then stopped. Licked his lips. Dropped his gaze to the floor. Looked back up at the Commander, who by now worried that he was going to be discharged from the Enterprise.

“Captain,” he replied slowly, uncertainly.

“Would you play chess with me tonight?” Kirk blurted. Spock hesitated. This certainly was not what he was expecting.

“Please. I haven’t - we haven’t played in quite a long time. I know you’ve been busy, but…” he took a deep breath, bringing his hands before his body and twisting his fingers anxiously. “Well. I’ve missed our time together, and with the incident on Lor -”

“I - I would be glad to, Captain,” Spock said, giving into his weak, selfish side that desperately wanted more of Kirk’s attention than he deserved. “Allow me a moment to change before I accompany you in your quarters.”

“No,” Kirk said quickly, stretching his hand out as if to stop Spock. “I mean,” he said, blushing ever so slightly, “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any further, Mister Spock. I’ll bring my chess set in here. The temperature will be more suited to your liking here, now, won’t it?” 

Spock unconsciously brought a hand up to his stomach, where Doctors McCoy and Mbenga had to leave a few stitches overnight. He felt slightly sick, but knew that it was from nerves and not the ordeal he had just been through. Illogical. Terribly illogical.

“I… yes,” he replied. The Captain smiled, eyes glittering even in the low light of the Vulcan’s room, and swiftly turned to retrieve the chess set.

The temperature regulator was, for once, doing its job and keeping the cabin at a comfortable 35 degrees Centigrade, and he was secretly glad to not have to shiver silently in the Captain’s rooms. It did mean, however, that he would have to be extra careful to not slip in the comfort of his own room. He could not falter in his behaviors, reverting back to habits that came naturally to him and were most odious to the Captain.

He had barely brought the two chairs over to his small table before Kirk was back, carrying his beautiful 3-tiered chess set with both hands. He set it up silently, and Spock took the chance to steal glances at his friend. There was a shadow of a beard on his cheeks and chin, much darker than the hair on the Captain’s head. He clearly had not shaved since the morning Spock and Uhura beamed down to Lor. Spock also saw dark circles under Kirk’s eyes. He obviously had not slept well, either. 

Spock felt his gut clench with guilt and worry. It was his fault that the Captain was so unkempt. He had stayed at the helm until Spock and Nyota were back on the Enterprise, anxious to have his officers back on board. 

“Why don’t you start us off, Mister Spock,” Kirk said, drawing the Commander back to reality with a soft voice. 

He nodded abruptly and moved his first white pawn, and soon their game was well and truly on. The silence was barely broken until Kirk had only his Queen and both bishops left, and Spock had a knight, a rook, and his King and Queen. 

“I spoke with Bones while you were… away,” Kirk said. His eyes never left the board, but his voice was strained. Spock simply waited for the Captain to continue his thought, nostrils flaring as Kirk made a move that made the game more complicated.

“He mentioned an, er, interesting conversation you two had before the mission to Lor.” Kirk watched Spock take his rook down to the first tier, pursing his lips as he saw his chances dwindle. “Bones - well, he said he thought we… may have had a falling out.”

Spock felt an inexplicable, entirely unprecedented drop in his stomach. 

“Oh?” he asked.

“I told him that was ridiculous, obviously. I mean, you’d been a little distant lately, but there’s nothing too out of the ordinary with that, is there?” Kirk continued, watching Spock closely. “You’re an awfully busy Vulcan, Mister Spock.”

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock said, unable to meet Kirk’s eyes.

“Unless I’ve actually miscalculated,” the Captain said softly, returning his gaze to the board. He moved his Queen to the right by two spots almost flippantly. “Have I… have I been remiss, Mister Spock, in my assumptions? Is there something I’ve done recently to…upset you?”

Spock did not speak immediately. Instead, he moved his knight up two tiers. 

“Check mate,” he said flatly.

“Spock,” the Captain admonished. 

“Vulcans do not get upset,” the Commander reminded his chess partner. “If you had acted inconsiderately, I would have mentioned it to you, Sir. Have I not done so in the past to your satisfaction?”

_Indeed,_ he could have added with no small amount of frustration, _it is you who has been hurt by my own carelessness. Yet you did not come to see me regarding what I could have done better. You simply wrote down your frustrations and allowed me to find what may have been the downfall of our friendship._

Kirk stared at him. Too late, Spock realized that his brow was deeply furrowed as he concentrated. He smoothed it out and stood abruptly, berating himself. 

“Thank you for a well-played chess game, Captain,” he said, stiffly moving to pack up the chess set. “I will see you on the bridge tomorrow for the Beta shift.”

The Captain continued to stare as he stood. He seemed shocked, though for what reason Spock could not deduce currently. He took the chess set and blinked, then turned to walk slowly to the bathroom connecting their quarters. 

“Good night, Mister Spock,” he said quietly. The door shut behind him.

“Good night, Captain,” Spock whispered to the empty room.

8.

All he wanted to do was light the incense his mother had sent from Vulcan, spicy and earthy like the desert in the Forge. He and the Captain had not fought, per say, but he felt deeply unsettled by their interaction. Chess was not usually so… fraught.

Instead of incense, Spock simply darkened the room and turned up the heat. He unrolled the deep crimson meditation mat near the chess table and awkwardly knelt, moving stiffly into a seated position with his hands in his lap. Breathing steadily, he first sought to remove his thoughts from bodily injuries that distracted him. Next he stilled his _katra_ for deeper self-reflection, preparing for the onslaught of emotions he expected. 

Instead, he was surprised to find complete numbness overcoming his emotional center. There was no anger, pain, hopelessness, love, affection, sadness, or frustration as he anticipated. It was like a heavy blanket had smothered out all his emotions and left a murky, massive void in their stead. 

Unable to endure the emptiness for a moment longer, Spock squeezed his eyes shut and simply prepared himself for a catatonic healing state, conducive to curing the body of its various illnesses. When he awoke 12.1 hours later, he felt physically refreshed and emotionally exhausted. Beta shift was only forty minutes away.

9.

The temperature had gone down again while in his trance. Scowling openly, Spock turned up the reading to 40 degrees Centigrade. It reminded him of his _kahs-wan_. How much simpler would life be, he pondered, if all he had to do was survive in the harshest desert, fight off the fiercest predators, and wander through the most treacherous cliffs on Vulcan? There, his soul would be at peace, knowing he had simple tasks on which to focus. Instead, the Commander faced even more precarious situations on the Starship Enterprise with an inner life full of perilous pitfalls. Perhaps his father had a point in requesting Spock’s return to Shi’khar to pursue a scientific career at the Vulcan Science Academy.

Sighing, Spock turned from the temperature regulator. His head pounded; it was difficult to focus. He was tempted to lie down for a time before Beta shift began, a pastime he generally reserved for when he was truly ill or injured.

He shook his head. What he needed was a quick sonic shower to get him sorted out from the Loren incident. Then he would sit down and compose an incident report regarding the Loren situation, and then he could think about his upcoming shift on the bridge.

Besides, it was time to set aside thoughts of Captain Kirk and all musings on the subject of their friendship. As his mother liked to say to him, “Worry never added a minute to anyone’s day.”

Armed with a fresh set of clothes, Spock opened the bathroom door with a quiet whoosh. He froze in the doorway, one foot in his quarters and one on the sterile white tile. Kirk stood before him, freshly shaved, bracing himself over the sink, staring deeply at his own reflection. He turned, surprised to see his second in command.

“I apologize, Captain,” Spock said hurriedly. He stayed in the doorway of the bathroom uncertainly, balancing on the soles of his feet. “I did not realize -”

“No, no,” Kirk interrupted, talking over the Vulcan officer quickly. “I didn’t mean -”

“You may finish in here first, of course -”

“I’m already finished, there’s no need -”

They stared at each other silently.

“Mister Spock,” the Captain said softly. He stepped forward, closing what little space was already between them. “I -”

He reached out and touched the Spock’s hand. It was light and ever so quick, but Spock’s beaten and battered mental shields were unable to suppress the current of Kirk’s thoughts flowing to his brain. 

_Affectionsoftlovehurtacceptancetenderjealousyangeryearning_ flooded Spock’s mind, and, from his superior officer’s shocked face, those same feelings cascaded furiously from Spock to Kirk.

The Captain stared at him wide-eyed. Spock jerked away. It was too late.

10.

Spock backed out of the bathroom as fast as he could and shut the door on the Captain’s stunned face. His hands trembled uncontrollably; he dropped the fresh set of clothes and staggered toward his bed.

His knees gave out and he collapsed gracelessly on the edge of the mattress. With no control of his limbs, Spock slid to the floor with a soundless sob. It was too much, too much, and he was so empty. He could not fight this anymore. The Captain now knew of his untoward affection, of his foolish feelings. What must he think of such forwardness?

Vaguely aware of an insistent buzzing at the bathroom door, Spock drew his knees up and rested his forehead on them. He barely looked up at the sound of the override code being entered and turned away when he heard Kirk gasp his name, coming to kneel before him.

“Mister Spock,” the Captain whispered, hand reaching out though not touching the Vulcan. “Oh, my dear Spock…”

“I sincerely apologize, Sir,” Spock said, finally gathering the strength to speak. His voice was gravelly, deep, as if he had just been crying. “I - I was weak.”

“Weak?” Kirk repeated as if in a daze. “My dear Mister Spock, what are you talking about?”

Spock looked up finally at the firm grip on his upper arms. He faced the Captain’s concerned gaze with tears in his eyes.

“I found the list, Captain,” he said. “The things you hate about me. I did my utmost to rectify the situation, to change my behavior -”

“The list? The list?” Captain Kirk seemed unable to refrain from repeating himself. He shook his head and gripped Spock’s arms tighter. 

The Commander retrieved the list from his pants pocket with shaking hands. He dropped it on the floor, unwilling to chance brushing against Kirk’s fingers. His Captain snatched it up, eyes darting across the page. His face drained of color, hazel eyes flying up to meet Spock’s.

“You found this?” he said, his voice wildly pitched. Spock dropped his gaze, ashamed.

Kirk sat back on his haunches, a blank look overtaking his features. Then, slowly, he began to grin. “Mister Spock,” he said breathlessly. “Oh, Mister Spock, don’t you see? This is wonderful!”

“Captain?” Spock asked. The tears in his eyes threatened to spill over to his face. Surak, he was tired.

“It’s not a list of things I hate about you, my dear, foolish Mister Spock. No, no, no, no - oh, oh God, you poor thing,” he prattled, eyes bright. The Captain reached out again for Spock, though the Vulcan flinched away. “Don’t you see? It says ‘10 things I _love_ about Spock.’ See here? It tore just so - but you thought - Oh, Mister Spock!”

“You need not lie to me, Captain,” Spock began indignantly, wiping at his face, but the Human simply stood and began to pace.

“Lie to you? I have been lying to you since you stepped aboard the Enterprise, Mister!” he said, throwing his arms out dramatically. “I’ve loved you since I set eyes on you. I knew I would marry you since you beamed up from Vulcan to replace Copeland. It’s been hell to not kiss you silly every morning at breakfast, every evening at chess - I’ve waited and waited to tell you, and you’ve found out the most horrid way - I’ve made such a mess!”

Spock sat at the end of his mattress, mouth agape. He stared at his Captain in wonder. 

“Mister Spock,” Jim said, kneeling before his second in command once more, “can you ever forgive me?”

“Captain,” Spock breathed, unsure if he could trust his senses.

Jim seemed to understand. He gently brought his hand up to brush the hair out of the Vulcan’s eyes. “I love you, Spock,” he whispered, tears matching Spock’s. “Let me show you?”

He held Spock’s wrist and gently guided it to his face, awkwardly positioning his fingers in a close approximation of the melding pattern. Spock searched Jim’s face, then muttered the familiar phrase under his breath.

When they came out of the meld, breathless with wonder and love, Spock allowed himself to release all his emotions and bawled in Kirk’s arms. His Captain, _his husband,_ held him lovingly, stroking Spock’s sleek, black hair and sniffling. 

“Spock, I am so deeply sorry,” he murmured into the Vulcan’s neck. He pushed Spock back ever so slightly to look him in the eyes. “My dearest, my Spock…”

“Captain,” Spock said, cradling Jim’s hands in his own. “May I request a leave of absence from Beta shift in approximately twenty nine minutes?”

Kirk barked out a laugh. “Mister Spock,” he said, retrieving his hands from his husband’s to wipe his tears, “you and I are both hereby requesting two days off.” He stood and crossed the room quickly to press the wallcom near Spock’s computer, buzzing medbay.

“Bones, I need a favor from my favorite CMO,” he said, quickly outlining their situation. After much cursing and a few empty threats, Doctor McCoy agreed to put the Captain and the Commander on medically-mandated rest leave, effective immediately. 

Jim silenced the wallcom and returned to his lover, who was attempting to stand. 

“Let me help,” Kirk whispered, gripping Spock’s waist and shoulder to balance him. He carefully stripped the Vulcan of his science blues and black undershirt, fussing over the stitches on his torso. He helped Spock lay down, and then similarly undressed himself, stretching out next to him on the bed. 

“My dearest Spock,” he said, staring at his second in command lovingly.

“Captain - Jim,” Spock said, reaching up with a shaky hand to stroke the warm cheek next to him. He sighed shakily. “I thought I had lost you forever,” he said.

“No, no,” Jim whispered, bringing Spock’s hand to his lips to kiss his fingers one by one. Spock blushed, but Jim continued. “I should have come to you sooner. Forgive me.”

The Vulcan closed his eyes and shimmied closer to his Human husband. “There is nothing to forgive,” he promised. As he drifted off to sleep, he reached out and clumsily took Jim's hand, allowing a small smile to play across his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely do not know how to end this fic. I have tried several endings and they all feel whack, so here's the original one that feels unfinished :( I hope you still enjoy. You can find me on Tumblr at @bllbabaggins if you want!
> 
> Translations/explanations:  
> Sash-savas is a type of fruit on Vulcan. I imagine that Spock gets his love for fruit/citrus teas from his mother :)  
> Le-matya is a predator on Vulcan. If I understand correctly, it's like a large, vicious lizard.  
> Kaiidith is a Vulcan phrase in line with Surakian philosophy (logic over emotion). It means "what is, is."  
> U’thet kanu is a made-up Vulcan celebration that I created solely for this fic :) It means "Celebrate children" when translated literally (from https://lingojam.com/EnglishtoVulcan&VulcantoEnglishTranslator)  
> Katra is the Vulcan equivalent of a soul.  
> A lirpa is a ceremonial Vulcan weapon (the kind that are used by Spock and Kirk in "Amok Time").  
> Kahs-wan is the ceremony by which Vulcans pass from childhood to adulthood at the age of 8. At this time, they are taken to the desert to survive for a period of days (I've read from 10-40 days). This includes surviving le-matya, harsh climates, starvation, and dehydration, to name a few things.  
> Shi'khar is the planetary capital of Vulcan. It is Spock's hometown, so to speak.


End file.
